One More Night With You
by Devilzzz
Summary: Hermione and Harry are forbidden to act on their love as the effect of Ron's death. However...one shocking revaluation is going to change their lives. Chapter four up.
1. What Happened To You, Harry?

One More Night With You  
  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Plot belongs to me. Summary: One night, Hermione sneaks into Harry's bed to comfort him, and then falls asleep by his side. But then, the morning after...  
Chapter One: "What Happened To You Harry?"  
  
It was a dusky kind of a night. The storm was high, and rain was still pouring into settlement of Hogwarts Grounds. Even with Hagrid, who usually stayed up late at his hut, there was no light or trace in sight. Hermione Granger didn't think what she was doing when she wandered through the various dorms and stairways. All she wanted to do was to be with Harry, and tell him everything was going to be alright. But everything wasn't going to be alright. Just yesterday night had they experienced together the most horrid sight of their lives. Their best friend, for a full seven years, mangled, detached, and bloodied into strips, right in front of their very eyes.  
  
Ronald Weasley. That was his name. He was chaser for the Gryffindor Qudditch Team, youngest brother of a group of Weasleys, and best friend to the famous Boy-Who-Lived and top of her classes Hermione Granger. He was freckled and gangly like most of his brothers, and tall, with a deep voice. For as long as she could remember, Ron's odd laugh still rang in his ears. Oh, what she wouldn't give to see his face again, happy and freckled, or to pat him on the head and joke with him. She would let him say anything, copy her homework, anything just to have him back.  
  
But it was gone. All of him. Ripped up. Just because of Voldemort. The full details were of course not given out to fellow schoolmates, as Dumbledore feared it would be much to frightful to think of what a full powered Voldemort had managed to do. Hermione shook herself. She didn't want to go over yesterday night's events. Nobody did. They were anticipating with questions, with 'why's' and hows, but Hermione didn't want to face the fact that her best friend was dead. She hadn't cried, nor had she seen Harry cry. She hadn't laughed at all. No smiles. No classes attended. She was weak. She was dead. Not alive. Hermione didn't want to handle the truth, the truth, of how Ron had died. The truth, of everything that had been risked. The truth, of all the things that had been lost.  
  
An unaware substance was leading her to the seventh boy's dorms, but she didn't care. Hermione let her footsteps carry her slowly, and she swung open the door noisily. She didn't care. None of it mattered. Life didn't matter. All she wanted to was to sleep, sleep, with someone beside her, holding her, protecting her. And she wanted to savor every bit of ordinary of the 'life' she had left.  
  
It had been so easy, to part the drapes swiftly, and get into bed, bidden by the silk covers that covered the couple. She noticed that his breath of sleeping was taken in ragged intakes. She swung her arm around his bare waist, and noticed that he had only pants on. But this was a vague thought, because she closed her eyes, letting her fingertips wander the inches of flesh, the flesh she wanted to drown in.  
  
Her fingertip halted as it crossed a scar. Another scar, this time across his chest, near between his nipples, a fresh, jagged scar, it was so hard to feel, something that was waiting to rip open and bleed. Something was dripping, something crimson, rolling across his waistline.  
  
Her face leaned over and her cheek went over Harry's, her body embraced against his. It was heated, warm. Yet, when she felt him with her fingers, he felt so very cold, like ice.  
  
"Oh, God, what happened to you, Harry?" she whispered, the first words she had spoken since the death. She let her tears stain on the nape of his neck, and they kept rolling down her cheeks, drying every so often.  
  
Hermione gave one more shuddering sigh before she relaxed against him, her skin against his.  
  
It was hours before she reached the peaceful suicide of sleeping slumber.  
  
Of course, she knew she didn't have to sleep. Because she wasn't alive. No, she was dead. She had died from the moment Ron raced in front of her, and pushed her away, and the wand had emitted in so many different flares of sparks, and they had shot right into Ron, making him drop to the floor, his head lolling unwaveringly to the side.  
Argh. This sucks. Introductery chapter, experiement. Tell me what you think. I'm open to suggestions.  
  
Love, -Court 


	2. When Will This Pain Stop?

One More Night With You  
  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Plot belongs to me.  
  
Chapter Two: 'How do I stop the pain?'  
  
It was a descriptive, dark shadow standing over them, silhoutteing the frames of it's features. The man's face was horrid looking, he was half- dead, half-evil. His shining green eyes shone like serpent's. His body was barely frail and skinny. But he was very much in power.  
  
"Hermione, go that way," Ron instructed. "Harry and I'll stop him. Get and free Ginny and Sirius. Run. Now."  
  
He demanded this clearly, but Hermione acted as if she didn't hear him. She stood frozen to the spot, her mouth open in a small gape.  
  
"Please, please let me help," she pleaded.  
  
"Go! Now!"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Go!"  
  
She ran away from them, rather reluctantly, trying hard not to look back.  
  
"Crucio!" a shrill voice prompted, yelling. Hermione's body went rigid, and she fell to the ground in immense pain that was filling her stomach, numbing her arms and mind. The striking pain pricked her back into reality.  
  
"No! Please!" Harry leaped forward, but it was far too late, the shadowy spirit was growing near, and he could feel fresh blood sprouting in between his fingertips....  
  
A scream arose from the Gryffindor, as he plunged awake, dripping with sweat. Something was clinging to his nearly bare body, something very much alive. He looked beside him and breathed in sharply. The familiar, tangles of brown hair lay, spread across his stomach, tickling his bare skin.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered. She didn't make any motion nor movement; Harry had an awful feeling she was not breathing, but as he drew closer to her, he lightly felt her pulse, and it rapidly made a soft, lightheaded beating sound against his finger.  
  
The touch jerked Hermione awake, and she opened her eyes, blinking.  
  
"What time is it?" she croaked.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
She wiped her eyes with the brims of her fingers, and wrapped her covers more securely around her body.  
  
"What happened? Why're you here?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione's face flushed. "I...couldn't sleep. And I didn't want to wake you and..."  
  
He didn't say anything for several moments.  
  
A pause. Silence.  
  
"Do you want to go to class today?" he spoke at last, saying each word feeling rather distant, unreal.  
  
"No."  
  
"Hermione..."  
  
"No," she said in a more firmer tone.  
  
"We - you need to graduate."  
  
"And you don't?"  
  
"I don't care about graduation. I haven't worked hard in these years like you did."  
  
"Well, what makes you think I care about it anymore?" she snapped.  
  
"Because...because you're...you're Hermione."  
  
She covered her face with her hands, taking within a deep inhale, and exhale. Her shoulders began to silently shake.  
  
"Don't do this..." Harry started to say, but she ignored him, sobbing even harder.  
  
"God, Harry, how do I stop this pain?" she hissed.  
  
"I don't know." He pulled her closer to himself, to his bare chest, uneasily. Pain was surfacing through his waist, still. The blood had dried, but the scars would be imprinted for forever.  
  
Her hair trickled at his arms, and her face tainted against his chest.  
  
"Shh," he whispered, cradling her tightly. She looked up, his lips brushing against his chin, her eyes red.  
  
He looked back down at her, and connected his lips to hers. It was an instinct, he had acted on impulse. Her soft lips felt tender against his cold, still ones. She numbed herself against him, one hand clutching his waist...and then...  
  
She pulled away, and he looked at her, surprised.  
  
"Please, oh God, you don't kiss like Ron..."  
  
The words struck him, but he tried to show no emotion. Hermione looked down at his chest, biting her lip.  
  
"I have to go," she whispered.  
  
"Okay," he replied, avoiding her eyes stonily. She got up from the warm clutch of his body, trying to regain her self-control. She set apart the curtains, and looking around, headed quickly across the room and out the door.  
  
He fell back into the soft cushion of his pillows, his breathing growing uneven and fast. He was furious with himself, and with the weight of the grief he had to go through, he also had to reduce the humiliation that was growing inside him.  
  
Oh God, you don't kiss like Ron...  
  
It was a signal. A sign. He would never be able to be Ronald Weasley, no matter how hard he tried. He could never let Hermione love him as much as he loved her, because her heart was for someone who was...  
  
gone.  
  
He closed his eyes, wishing to God it would be only darkness that filled his haven this time.  
  
'Oh God, you don't kiss like Ron.'  
  
Hermione recalled the words over and over again, trying to ignore the odd ringing in her ears. How could she have said that?  
  
But it had been the truth. Harry certainly didn't kiss like Ron. He kissed even better. The truth shook her. How could she think such a thing? She loved Ron. He had been her life. She would've died for him, and she had wished for the past weeks it had been her to die and end the misery instead of him. She would've killed herself, if it wasn't for the tiny fact that Harry would be devastated if he lost both of his best friends.  
  
The settled, loving and caring way Ron kissed, Hermione would never be able to compare to, or differ to, or even forget. But the soft, tender and urgent way Harry kissed was much different, with more of a rush, of need and lust...  
  
Hermione was immediatley ashamed of herself. How could she ever think of such things when she was supposed to be feeling awful? Pulling her hair out, biting her nails, cutting herself, doing awful things for the loss of her love...  
  
A soft sigh escaped her lips, followed by a dry sob.  
  
'You stupid half-dead bastard! How dare you do this to me, he never did anything to you! I will get you this time. I will kill you, I will beat the living shit out of you,' she promised herself, her mind drifting swiftly to Voldemort.  
  
She closed her eyes, Harry the last thing she thought about before she fell into deep sleep. 


	3. I loved him too

One More Night With You  
  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Plot belongs to me.  
  
Chapter Three: "I loved him too."  
  
The next days chased by quickly. Harry spent the time in his dorm, his eyes unmoving, staring at the ceiling, trying to forbid the memories that plunged into his mind about Ron. How long had it been since the moment he had hit the ground? Nobody in Hogwarts knew the whole, true story. The only part they knew: This time, it was not Harry Potter who had done something courageous. It was Ronald Weasley, the freckled best friend and chaser of the Qudditch team. It was always Ron, however, Harry realized, that did most of the saving. Harry hadn't been able to save Cedric, and Hermione had never saved anyone else either. But Ron...in the first year, had risked his life just in thought of Voldemort in power once more...and at beginning of sixth year, he had caught Hermione when he was trying to play Qudditch. However, she went off steering and fell, and Harry remembered the day clearly. A bit of a smile filled his face. It was the day she knew, obviously. They had started going out, and soon they had realized their love for each other. Of course, Harry knew Ron nor Hermione would ever be able to say these words to each other, for shyness of their formal friendship. But Harry could see it in their eyes, the way they snuck looks at each other, the way they pretended it to be the way it used to be, like they were just friends, for his sake, and he'd find them kissing at the common room later on.  
  
This was what pained Harry the most: the third time Ron had saved them, in their current seventh year, he had died. And Hermione had never said those three words.  
  
Oh God, I would do anything, Harry prayed. Please kill me, and bring Ron back...please. He knew it wes a weak attempt, but he couldn't help the ambition growing in the bottom of his stomach. He looked around his dorm and realized all the others had shamlessly let out the covers and gone. But...what time was it? It must've been a Hogesmade weekend, Harry thought bitterly. Everyone was going to Hogesmade like nothing had happened these past months...  
  
How dare they, a voice prompted. But Harry knew that they could never feel the pain he felt. He doubted whether he felt this much pain when his mother and father had died right in front of his eyes... of course, he had been merely a baby and the memory made him strong, gave him more bravery. But he'd give up all his strength and courage just for it to him to die.  
  
A knock on the open dorm door awakened him from his thoughts. His eyes drifted to the figure at it. It was Hermione.  
  
"Hi," she croaked softly. He eyed her newly ironed robes with accusement.  
  
"Why are you wearing those? Did you go to classes yesterday?"  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, looking down at her robes, a flush going over her cheeks. "I slept with them on...I forgot to change this morning..."  
  
"I can't believe you," Harry said stonily. "Ron's gone and you don't even have the decency to mourn! I guess grades are more important."  
  
"How can you say that!" she started shrieking. "Grades don't matter, don't you see? I just wanted to feel normal for one day! But I realized it was a mistake! Everyone went quiet around me! I am not normal, Harry anymore! I am not...my life is gone! And my only best friend left tells me I like grades better than an actual person! I loved him too, you know! This isn't all about you, Harry!"  
  
"Well, it should be! Because I am the only one that cares!" Harry snapped angrily.  
  
The room filled with silence. Hermione took a deep, heaving breath, and covered her face with her hands, and started sobbing.  
  
"That's right," Harry said loudly. "Cry. As if that's going to change anything." Then, quickly, tears began to fill his eyes as she removed her hands to reveal her newly stained face.  
  
"If you're such a mourner, why aren't you? Too strong, are you? Too much of a man, are you?"  
  
"I..I.." Harry gulped, but was unable to put down the lump rising in his throat. Tears slowly began to pour onto his cheeks. He covered his face in his hands, ashamed of himself. Stop it, he told himself. It won't bring him back. Just like your parents...  
  
A few moments later, he felt someone cradling him in their arms. He opened his eyes, and saw Hermione, with her arms around his shoulders, her face dug into his neck. He squirmed uneasily as the tears drenched his shirt - the same burnt shirt ... he shook himself.  
  
"I just can't fit those pieces together, Hermione..." Harry suddenly said.  
  
Hermione looked up, her lips brushed against his nose due to her advantage.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The day - the night that he died, it doesn't seem real, you know?"  
  
Hermione was oddly quiet for a moment, as if recalling something. Suddenly, she gasped, her eyes opening wide.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, lurching up. "Are you okay?"  
  
"That's because..." she stammered. "Oh my God, Harry, we've been so stupid!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The missing pieces!"  
  
"What missing pieces?! What are you talking about?" Harry asked frantically.  
  
"It ...wasn't real," Hermione whispered. Then, she jumped up. "I've got to research something in the library."  
  
And then she started leaving, Harry staring in amazement after her.  
  
_________  
  
Wow, must've been the biggest cliffhanger I've ever written in my life. My sentimental side has overgrown me. I cried through writing this whole chapter; it was painful to see Ron dead, and since this is my story...  
  
*Wink* Have I surprised you once more?  
  
Love, -S.A. 


	4. Fitting All Those Pieces

One More Night With You  
  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Plot belongs to me.  
  
Chapter Four: "Fitting together every little piece..."  
  
Harry felt dazed. He was moving, blinde as he walked, clutching at every piece of wall as he walked.  
  
"Hermione?" he called, through the darkness, the musky scent upwards his nostrils. He felt something clutch him, and he turned to face Ron.  
  
"She could be down the hole..."  
  
"Ron, how many times," Harry replied through gritted teeth, "Do I have to tell you it's too dangerous to go down there? Voldemort could be there."  
  
"If Voldemort's there, so is Sirius...and ...and Ginny," Ron said, as he clutched his stomach in agony.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, widening his eyes.  
  
"Nothing," Ron responded quickly. "Go ahead. Down the hole. I follow you."  
  
Harry gave him a strange look, but shook himself as he began to take off his shoes and placed them next to the narrow hole. He knew he couldn't fit down there unless he took off everything, and the sound of boiling water cautioned him. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, and pressed his face against the narrow hole. All he could hear was dripping of liquid.  
  
"Hermione?" he called. No answer. Harry unzipped his pants, placing them beside his shoes, and tucking his wand under his arm tightly, he slushed his feet into the hole, and felt water. He looked down and saw it was black, swirling water beneath him.  
  
"Urgh," he murmured. He turned behind him, and saw Ron, who was drinking something from a small flask.  
  
"What're you doing?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Ron looked up quickly, and hid the flask. "I...was thirsty."  
  
"Oh, Ron," Harry said, exasperated, rolling his eyes. "We're supposed to be concentrating on the lives of three people!"  
  
"I am sorry...Harry...you will do the best you can, right? Ginny...she's down there...this is the best time for you to be the hero...you..." Ron seemed rather uncomfortable.  
  
"Ron...I want you to promise me something," Harry said, motioning him closer. Ron walked toward him, keeping a safe distance, biting his lip.  
  
"No matter what happens...get Ginny and Hermione...and Sirius. Do whatever you have to do...please..."  
  
"I will...I promise," he answered, as he looked down. Harry caught the apprehensive look on his face.  
  
"You can do it, Ron," Harry murmured, patting his hand. With this final notice, he plunged himself down the whole, and felt water rise up into his face. He was going to drown, he knew it. But at least he would die trying to save...  
  
The water seemed to be bubbling against him, and he closed his eyes, struggling to breathe...he blew bubbles, but the water suffocated him - it rushed up to his mouth...the taste was of sour acid...he was going to die. He knew it. It had been seventeen years, not that bad...for Harry, anyway. He was going to die. He closed his eyes, the horrible taste in his mouth growing fader...and he fell into deep sleep.  
  
Something was moving on his mouth...something. Harry gasped, the water releasing it from his mouth. He was on solid ground...somehow he had gone through the hole...and....he looked up, and saw Hermione, her hair tangled with wetness, her robes lathered with water that it would've taken years to dry.  
  
"I..." he coughed slightly, and more water began to choke inside his throat. Hermione moved forward, and placed her lips against his, giving air to him...  
  
The last burst of water came out...and Harry got up, weakly.  
  
"Where is..." Before he could say anymore, something swished out from the ceiling. A figure fell through it (Harry supposed it was the hole) and water banished around it.  
  
"Ron! What're you doing?"  
  
"Well, well, Nagani, it looks like we have company..." a voice drawled sideways from the trio.  
  
"You!" Harry seethed, glaring at him.  
  
"Me," he said, waving his hand dismissively.  
  
It was a descriptive, dark shadow standing over them, silhoutteing the frames of it's features. The man's face was horrid looking, he was half- dead, half-evil. His shining green eyes shone like serpent's. His body was barely frail and skinny. But he was very much in power.  
  
"Hermione, go that way," Ron instructed. "Harry and I'll stop him. Get and free Ginny and Sirius. Run. Now."  
  
He demanded this clearly, but Hermione acted as if she didn't hear him. She stood frozen to the spot, her mouth open in a small gape.  
  
"Please, please let me help," she pleaded.  
  
"Go! Now!"  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Go!"  
  
She ran away from them, rather reluctantly, trying hard not to look back.  
  
"Crucio!" a shrill voice prompted, yelling. Hermione's body went rigid, and she began shaking, her shrieks filling the air.  
  
"No! Please!" Harry leaped forward, but it was far too late, the shadowy spirit was growing near, and he could feel fresh blood sprouting in between his fingertips....  
  
Hermione stopped moving. She opened her eyes, groaning in pain, and Harry had never felt so much anger...he ran toward Voldemort...he wanted to shed every single piece of that son of a bitch...  
  
"Harry, don't," Hermione muttered, but he didn't listen.  
  
"AVADA KEDRAVA!" Voldemort roared, and Harry closed his eyes, thinking the flash of green was coming to him...  
  
But it hadn't. Something fell beside his standing, and he opened his clenched eyes, and saw Ron...hopelessly unmoving on the floor.  
  
"No! Please, no," Harry prayed, but something was different. Ron's red hair was swarming with something...something peach...  
  
Harry was going to faint, and he knew it. The copper smell of blood washed through him as he heaved his last breath, and fell against the solid ground...  
  
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"  
  
Something was shaking him...something...arms.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
He opened his eyes, gasping and leaping up in the process. He instinctively clutched his face, and knew he was sweating.  
  
"Are you okay?" a frantic whisper caught in his ear. He turned to the person beside him, and saw that it was Hermione.  
  
"I was ...re-living it..." he hissed, his fists clenching under her view.  
  
She pulled him closer to her, and his head fell on her soft lap. She clutched him, one of her hands tugging at his tangled hair.  
  
"Harry," she cooed, leaning over so that her lips were brushing against his ear. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"I...the hole, we went down...and then it happened again...Ron died and this peach thing came over his hair...and...Voldemort...I went..."  
  
"Did you see when he died? Did you?" Hermione urged.  
  
"Why - why are you asking?" he asked, feeling as if he was about to throw up.  
  
"Tell me," she said firmly.  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Tell me how he looked. Tell me everything he said before you went down to the hollow..."  
  
"He - he said to save Ginny, and...to take care of you...and..."  
  
"Shh..never mind, we'll talk tomorrow...go to sleep," Hermione whispered, cradling him in her arms.  
  
_________  
  
This time there was no dream. Harry woke up what felt like moments later, but was actually hours, and found that it had already passed by into night. Hermione was clutching him from behind, and her soft breathing fanned his neck. She had her eyes painfully closed. He ran his fingers over her cheek, and felt the tingling rising in his fingertips...  
  
"Harry?" she whispered.  
  
Harry, startled that she was awake, didn't reply.  
  
"We're going to fit every single piece," she promised sleepily. "Every little one."  
  
Harry smiled slightly, feeling his eyes droop. "You know, he was still classic."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Ron. He was...drinking water, as if everything was alright. As if you guys weren't in danger. I bet he'd eat if he had the chance...imagine him, offering some to Voldemort..." a cold chuckle passed through Harry's lips.  
  
"Water?" Hermione frowned, her eyes fluttering open, staring up at him.  
  
"Yeah...or maybe that was in just the dream...I don't know where he got the flask though.."  
  
"Harry, stop..." Hermione suddenly said, pulling herself over so that her face tucked against his chest.  
  
"The flask," she whispered, her mouth moving against his flesh.  
  
Harry didn't answer. It was as if something was pulling him into sleep...  
  
"It wasn't water, Harry," Hermioen croaked. Harry felt his eyebrow raise in his sleep, but didn't bother to retort.  
  
"It...was...polyjuice potion," someone said. He didn't know who was speaking anymore, but he drifted onto sleep.  
  
_________ 


End file.
